


jump

by Keturagh



Series: False Fruit [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Lavellan is Distracted from her Duty, Mutual Pining, Short & Sweet, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21971149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keturagh/pseuds/Keturagh
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Solasmance - Relationship, solavellan - Relationship
Series: False Fruit [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579504
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	jump

**“Piece human, piece hornet, the fury/of both, astonishing abs all over it.”**

\--

She’s never really noticed his hands before.

Well… no, that’s not true.

She’s never noticed his hands while he’s _casting_ before.

So the flourishes, the twitching, the way his palms flip the staff overhead, the way he twists his grip around from front to back and the releases the sparks of magic alongside Dorian’s own manipulation of the Fade…

He straightens, turns back to the Tevinter mage, and his hands move with him as he gestures back at where his magic has dispersed. He is effusive about something. Dorian is agitated. They’re both far enough away that she doesn’t have to hear the details, thank the bald balls of the Creators. But it’s unusual enough to hear him trying to speak over someone else that this must be important or… well… some relative measure of important.

“Isn’t that right, darling?” Viv asks from the couches.

“Don’t try and give answers to these fine people that they know I can’t speak for, Enchanter,” she says over her shoulder, all good-humored Inquisitor. The nobles chuckle and Vivienne plays right off of it.

She leans against the cold stone of the balcony. Returns her attention to Solas who is now…

She breathes in, sharply.

Well. They’re both shucking their coats and undershirts and… what… what is happening.

Dorian apparently is meant to go first, and his bare chest actually glimmers in the sunlight which, she considers, might be an effect of the cream he insisted she use in the Western Approach. He wields the staff over his shoulders, moving with a circular motion, flings the staff overhead in a vicious, strong strike to the ground. Looks over at Solas. Spreads a hand as if to say, with absolute authority, “See?”

Solas snorts. Un-crosses his arms -

“Pangara, darling, please correct the viscount -”

\- spreads his stance -

“… some trifle of a Dalish custom he seems to have turned round…”

his _hands_ they _flex_ , and the staff whirls across the breadth of his shoulders.

His abs…

The way his abs cut down into his pelvis…

“… forgive my mistaking the heathens’ ways! I’ve no sense of mind for barbarism, no taste for the stuff myself…”

He shifts his weight all up, left hand balling around some force of air and Fade energy and his face is lit by the sparks and then he turns his grasp and spit-fast whips his hand back down, ending with a decidedly graceful caress of the space above his knee as the magical energy flows from his palm.

“Uhm,” Pangara says.

She’s not sure why there had to be partial nudity involved in this particular argument. But Solas and Dorian are back to pinching the air in gestures of frustration and gesticulating wildly at their own staffs, then at each other’s staffs, then miming their respective castings once again.

“… Darling? Do please give us all an excuse for merriment; I’m certain that we would all be glad for the chance to see the good viscount reduced to ashes in a rift.”

“What?” Pangara rips her gaze from the training yard and realizes that she’s supposed to be participating in an argument. Or more accurately, given the ice in Vivienne’s eyes, she’s supposed to be delivering some scathing message of authority and grace to the thin-lipped nobles.

As it is, she finds her gaze drawn inexplicably back down to where Solas and Dorian are arguing. And that’s when she sees it - only so briefly, but clear and uncharacteristically bold, when Solas casts a look up to her on the balcony, raises a brow, settles his hands at his hips, and smirks.

She does cast a spell then: raises a barrier with a muttered curse and gets her feet under her on the railing and the gasps chorus behind her and Dorian looks up over his shoulder and appears to say the same thing that Vivienne says in her most plaintive, irritated voice when she calls after her, _“Really?"_


End file.
